


Hearing

by Bythoseburningembers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bythoseburningembers/pseuds/Bythoseburningembers
Summary: Takes place immediately after Crisis on Naboo, and follows Anakin and Obi-wan as they try to heal a broken friendship in the face of lies and a never-ending war.





	1. Chapter One

Obi-wan could hear everything.

Bant had mentioned this once, years earlier when they were both mere Padawan's studying for separate paths.

 _"In a human,"_ Bant had informed him around a mouthful of candy. _"Hearing is the last thing to go before death. I'm not sure why, or if your species can still process noise by a certain point, but..."_

_"So you're telling me that I won't **see** Master Qui-gon's disappointed face when I fail this test, but I will hear his you-have-failed-me sigh?" _

It felt so long ago now. They had been completely different people, and the universe had been so simple by comparison. Qui-gon's disappointment had been the worst fate he could imagine, not being a Jedi the greatest embarrassment there was. Yet in the years since, Obi-wan had known torture and murder, sacrifice and emotional ruin. He was wiser, and, somehow more fragile. 

He could hear everything. 

There was a piercing ring that made red dots swim before the darkness of his closed eyelids, becoming fuzzier as his hold on consciousness faded. The drugs had done their work well. They had slowed his heartbeat until it was nearly indistinguishable, and certainly undetectable by pulse.

 He was sure that had he opened his eyes, he would not have been able to see far. His Force signature had been cut off, too. The drugs were making his mind sluggish, his blood froze in his veins. It was agonizing, but what about this experience would not be painful?

Ahsoka’s footsteps were light, capable as they stormed toward him, stopping just by his head. He felt a whoosh of air over his face before the skin on his face went numb. His chest was immobilized. He hoped that this wouldn’t take long. 

“Master? Can you hear me?” Ahsoka asked, softly.  Her voice echoed in his mind, rapidly draining of all thoughts as his body systematically shut down. She crouched next to him, her warmth steadying in the dizzying effects of the drug. “Master Kenobi?” She didn’t touch him, as she had been trained. Her hands skimmed over his body, like feathers, reaching out with the Force.

He didn’t answer, and seconds ticked past. Ahsoka pressed two fingers to his neck, his wrist, desperately searching for a pulse. “Master Kenobi?!” She cried, her voice growing increasingly frantic.

 “Master, wake up! C’mon!” He felt slim hands gently slapping his cheeks, digging into his shoulders. His upper body was hauled upright before flopping back down. He felt knobby knees digging into his lower back, his head lolled against her collarbone.  

“No,” Ahsoka whispered, as his fabricated truth dawned on her. Her hands, mainly obscured by protective gloves, gently ran over his forehead, stroking his hair with such kindness it gentled the effects of the drug. “No. Can you…?” She shook him gently, pressed a hand against his left cheek. He felt eyelashes tickle his neck as she pressed sensitive Lekku against his chest, listening.

For a moment, a brief flit of fear crossed his mind.  Togruta Lekku were extremely receptive. If there was the tiniest beat, she may be able too… The thought was dashed by Ahsoka’s small noise of distress. “Master,” she breathed, horrified. “Oh, no.”

Obi-wan really wished he couldn’t hear. Were those _tears_ in her voice? He had to admit, he had always felt a kinship with Ahsoka. He had spent enough sparring sessions with her, had taught her how to cheat at Sabacc, had listened to her recollections of battles and woes, worries and doubts. While Anakin was away on missions, he had sometimes spent months with Ahsoka Tano. She was his Padawan as surely as she was Anakin's, but he had not believed that she would… React so badly to his death.

 “No. Master what… What will I tell Anakin?” Obi-wan didn’t know. He hoped that his hearing would be gone by then. He didn’t know if he could handle listening to his former Padawan mourning him. He wished Anakin wouldn’t mourn him at all. “What will I tell Anakin?!” Ah. The crux of their problems, most days.

 _I’m sorry,_ Obi-wan thought, as shame and guilt ate at his chest. _I’m so sorry._ He would never want to tell Anakin Skywalker that Ahsoka was dead. How could he expect her to do the work a Jedi Master would have balked at? It was more agonizing than the drug, than Ventress’s torture, the idea that he was purposefully hurting the two people closest to him for a politician.

_For the Republic, Obi-wan. The Republic you swore an oath to protect._

It didn’t feel worth the moisture he felt trailing down his collarbone, as Ashoka’s nose pressed into the juncture of his throat. “Master,” she whimpered. Hugging him tightly. She sniffled, once, twice, then took her head away, still cradling him tight to her body. He heard a few muffled voices from afar.

 _Dry your tears, young one,_ he wanted to implore her. _I am not worthy of your grief._

Then, he heard a swoosh of air, the heavy footfalls of worry. His heart clenched. Anakin.

 _Please,_ he begged The Force he could not touch. _Please don’t make me…_

But the Force was never a nursemaid. It dished out the truth, slapping him with his own inadequacy, slamming him with the consequences of his righteousness. “How is he?” Anakin gasped. Silence, but he could feel Ahsoka’s chest quivering beneath his ear.

Anakin made a small noise of disbelief. “Obi-wan?” He asked, sounding appropriately impatient, as if Obi-wan had merely slept in. It nearly broke his resolve, but Obi-wan knew it was too late now anyway. The drug would keep him incapable of movement for a long time yet.

Strong hands- one a Prosthetic, another slap in the face- gripped his shoulders, shook him. Anakin’s Force signature was encompassing even though Obi-wan could not feel it. Like a gushing river, overflowing around him, smothering him in a penetrating embrace. It found nothing.

But Obi-wan, in his surest Hell, heard everything.

“Obi-wan?! OBI-WAN!” Anakin shouted again. 

“Master,” Ahsoka choked out. “I’m sorry, but he’s…”

“No! Stop it. He’s… He’s gonna be ok,” Anakin ordered her urgently. His hands traveled everywhere, over Obi-wan’s neck and wrists and mouth and chest, desperately probing for a pulse or whiff of breath. Obi-wan had done the same for Qui-gon, hours after he had joined the Force.

 _Anakin, don’t. Don’t do this to yourself._ The distant sound of sirens interrupted his distress. “Master Jedi!” A robotic voice called. Police droid.  “Do you need assistance?”

“Ahsoka!” Anakin pleaded, commanded, shouted in a rush. “Get rid of them.” That wasn’t that they needed right now, but Ahsoka, for once, did not argue. She merely eased herself from beneath Obi-wan, one hand resting over his, a baby bird lingering beneath its mother’s wing before taking flight. Then, she left and the separation felt like being skinned alive.

Anakin dragged Obi-wan’s limp body into his arms. “C’mon old man,” he cajoled, squeezing Obi-wan’s arms. “C’mon. I know you. You aren’t gonna die from a stupid _sniper shot!_ That’s a load of Boshooda, no death at all. I know you. _I know you_!” He screamed.

 _You’ll be ashamed of me,_ Obi-wan thought in reply.

“Obi-wan,” Anakin whined, as if he were a ten-year-old again, complaining about his newly imposed curfew. “Obi-wan, c’mon. Hear me, please. Listen to me. You can’t do this, not without me. Don’t leave without me,” he commanded, pleaded, shouted. His voice wavered precariously, emotion sloshing over the threshold of his tenuous control, and Obi-wan wondered how many ways in a lifetime his heart could break.

Anakin twisted his hands into Obi-wan’s hair, desperately. His face he hid in Obi-wan’s neck, and Obi-wan would have instinctively reached up to comfort him if he weren’t paralyzed. He did not know if that was a blessing or a curse, if Master Yoda had known he would never be strong enough to deny his Padawan solace.

Anakin’s shoulders shook, silently. “No,” he moaned. “No, please,” he started to rock. “N-not my master. I can’t bear it. Obi-wan, _please_ ,” he begged anxiously. “I can’t do this without you! What do I do? I’m not ready. You can’t just leave me. Master?!” Ahsoka approached again, softly.

“Anakin.” A shivering pause. “It’s time to go.” Then, blessedly, the Force spared him anymore agony, and he was sucked into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

 

 When it was finally over, his own identity returned to him slowly. The nuances of Obi-wan Kenobi, finally uninhibited by Hardeen and unshackled by duty, gradually became clearer in his heart, quite like the viewport of a ship as it exited hyperspace; one minute surrounded by a dizzying spectacle of color and light. In the next moment, that vertigo dispelled, exposing the gigantic, dark emptiness of space, sometimes interspersed with planets or star clusters.

Ahsoka was the first planet to ease into his emptiness.  

The serum that returned his face to its original shape and contour had left him feeling drained and feverish for two days. Windu had left to prepare The Chancellor’s return ship, personally. Anakin was off protecting Senator Amidala, supposedly (Obi-wan dared not consider what _that_ meant) and he, the _Jedi Master,_ was bed-ridden. Granted, due to his reputation and history with the Naboo, his room was lofty, his bed very soft and his every need anticipated with professional kindness. He could have asked for nothing more. It was a bit discomfiting.

And more than he deserved.

Obi-wan was considering his options for escape (he could have _sworn_ he had seen Qui-gon mind-trick a droid once) when she walked into the room. “Master?” Ahsoka breathed, stopping in the doorway to peer inside his room cautiously.

Obi-wan startled. He had not seen Ahsoka since his arrival here. Admittedly, he had not anticipated speaking with her until they at least returned to the Temple. Nonetheless, her presence was a soothing balm in the Force, someone familiar and without dark agenda, _finally._ He smiled, suddenly shy. “Hello young one,” he called, waving her inside.

Ahsoka approached him, staring pointedly at his smooth chin. Her large blue eyes were wide with astonishment. Obi-wan recalled that she had never seen him without his beard, and chuckled. The sound seemed to rouse Ahsoka from her stupor. She looked up, gazing intensely into his eyes, as if searching for him there. “It’s… Um… Well, it’s good to see you,” she stammered, standing at his right.

Obi-wan used The Force to pull up a chair. “Likewise,” he replied, his throat still aching from the voice modulator. “I’m told the Queen was impressed by you,” he said, as Ahsoka lowered herself into the seat, still staring.

She shrugged, uncomfortably. “I was only doing my duty,” she replied. Obi-wan’s heart swelled. It was obvious she was growing in maturity, advancing from the brash little girl she had been into a capable young woman, a true Jedi. Anakin was teaching her well. 

“As must we all. Now, what have you been up too, while I’ve been advancing my acting career?” The feeble joke helped to break the tension between them. Ahsoka visibly relaxed.

“Not much, master. Keeping Anakin out of trouble, mainly. You know my master, always on the move,” yes, he knew. Obi-wan reached up to instinctively stroke his beard, remembered it was no longer there and lowered his hand. Ahsoka finally drew enough courage to heave a breath. “Master Kenobi- I have to say, it’s weird to look at you without the beard.”

He was glad someone understood his embarrassment. His lips quirked into a smile. “It doesn’t make me look younger?” He asked impishly. Ahsoka’s eyes brightened.

“It makes you look weird,” she told him, with perfect honesty. Then, sobering she looked down, twiddled her thumbs. “Anakin is really angry with you,” she added. Obi-wan sighed, trying to ease the ache of guilt in his chest.

“I don’t blame him,” he admitted, then tilted his head to look into her eyes. “What about you?” He asked softly.

Ahsoka seemed surprised he had asked. She looked up, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “I… Understand why you did it,” she began, slowly, assembling her thoughts. Obi-wan listened. He owed her that much. “I know Jedi aren’t supposed to feel attachments, and anger is a path to the Dark Side,” well, that was something. Not everything, though, and a Jedi never did anything by halves, even if it hurt.

“But?” He pressed. Ahsoka Tano was, after all, the Padawan of his former Padawan. If Obi-wan knew anything, it was that Anakin had not set apart time to instill many (if any) lessons about controlling inappropriate passions.

Ahsoka was bolstered by his patience. She looked up, fierceness now shining in her eyes. “But it hurt, master! I thought… I found you on the ground and you weren’t… I had to tell Anakin that…” She floundered into incoherency then, The Force rising in a sudden whirlwind of anger and betrayal. Ahsoka looked away, huffily, before turning back to him. “The worst part? All of our pain was part of _your plan._ You _planned_ to hurt us!”

Obi-wan blinked, unsurprised by the outburst. It was, after all, the truth. He suspected Anakin would be less couth about his own anger. “I planned to save the Chancellor,” he corrected her firmly. Ahsoka looked down, unsatisfied. Obi-wan softened. “To do that, I had to hurt you though. Yes. It was not easy for me, Ahsoka,” Ahsoka snorted softly.

“You still did it!”

“Yes,” Obi-wan breathed, looking away, out of the windows toward the courtyard below, where Naboo children were engaged in a game of hoverball, screaming and laughing. At peace for the moment. He had envisioned them when he was convincing himself this plan would be worth it, but now seeing the fruits of his labor- the good and the bad- he still felt as if he had made a terrible mistake. “I did. I took an oath, Ahsoka. As Jedi, we must make… Sacrifices, for the greater good. We have to do things that are not easy,” he breathed.

“That doesn’t mean we have to betray our friends!” he looked back toward her. Ahsoka had her arms crossed, her eyes ablaze with a small fire of hurt. He smiled, ruefully. She was still so young, so naïve for all the days she had spent at war. She still thought that she had free-will, a choice to make about the way life would treat her.

None of them had that luxury.

“Sometimes it does,” he argued. “The Jedi’s oath can mean a lot of things, betrayal, espionage, lies, killing… you don’t understand this now, but you will. I do not look forward to that day. Until then,” he shrugged, tiredly. “I _am_ sorry for the hurt I caused Ahsoka,” _you don’t know how much._

Ahsoka gazed at him suspiciously, as if gauging how honest his apology was. Obi-wan’s heart panged. She used to trust him without reserve, follow his word with some reservations, true, but never outright distrust. _I suppose I banished those days myself,_ he thought, the dread in his chest growing. What would happen when Anakin…? Eventually, upon finding no deceit in the Force, Ahsoka softened.

 “Well,” she considered, smiling. “I _am_ really glad you’re back, master. Anakin was driving me crazy,” she admitted. Obi-wan turned to her, grateful for the reprieve, though his heart still throbbed. Was he worthy of such flippant forgiveness? His identity peeled around the edges, exposing a raw wound leftover from Qui-gon’s teachings. _Worthiness_ , he had always struggled with, though his master would have insisted there was no such thing.

 “He does that on occasion,” he agreed. Ahsoka looked hopeful.

“Will you go…?”

He had too sometime. “Talk to him? I will,” Obi-wan glanced around. “But first- I need a favor from you…”

 

_Later:_

Ahsoka was a staunch accomplice in his escape. Force knew the two of them had been imprisoned in the healer’s wards of the universe enough to have learned a few tricks.

Nevertheless, newly dressed in Jedi tunics, his Lightsaber pressed to his hip and a dark cloak covering his beardless face, Obi-wan quietly strode from the med-bay in pursuit of his wayward friend. “He should be in the command center,” Ahsoka whispered to him as she passed his shoulder, heading the opposite direction.

Obi-wan threw a grateful half-grin over his shoulder. “My thanks, Padawan,” he called back, trying to hide a grimace as stabbing pain erupted behind his temples. It seemed changing the bone structure of one’s face was a painful process, and one he was not eager to try again.

He was even less eager to speak with Anakin. Obi-wan inhaled deeply, trying to slow his hammering heart. He had never been so… Uneasy to speak to the boy before, even when disciplining or counseling him. Speaking to Anakin was never easy, but it had by no means been intimidating.

_Perhaps it is so this time because you know exactly what he’s going to say._

“Keep your mind in the here and now,” he grumbled at his inner demons just as he tapped the key code into the command center. True to Ahsoka’s word, Anakin was there, his eyes sweeping over a hologram of the planet’s atmosphere. Five Republic ships waited above them, ready to receive the Chancellor, fully armed in case of attack.

There really was nothing else to know besides that, so why was Anakin staring at the ship formations with such intensity? The Separatists would be fools to stage an ambush when _three_ capable Jedi, and their full battalions of clones, were protecting the Republic’s leader. Anakin blinked a few times, probably instinctively sensing his arrival. He looked up, and his eyes hardened.

“I was told you were still recovering,” he said mildly.

Obi-wan stepped forward, leaned inconspicuously against the opposite side of the terminal to hide the sudden vertigo making the room tip precariously to the right. “I am perfectly capable of recovery out of a bed,” he informed his friend. Anakin opened his mouth, probably prepared to object, but Obi-wan went on before he could. “Why are you in here, exactly?”

Anakin glared at him for a full ten seconds before swiveling back to the map, crossing his arms over his chest and tensing his shoulders as if to ward away invasive questions. Standing like that, he almost looked like a boy again. “I just wanted to make sure there were no gaps in our defenses,” he snarled.

Obi-wan would have cocked a brow if it hadn’t been shaved off. “Extensive planning besides our own has gone into this, Anakin. The Chancellor is as safe as can be made possible,” he reminded him.

Anakin stiffened. “Yeah? Well, excuse me if I have trouble _trusting_ the extensiveness of other’s plans lately,” he growled. Obi-wan now understood why Ahsoka had asked him to speak to her master. If he was in this bad a mood, it was very likely even Padme had banished him from her vicinity to cool off.

Obi-wan had always liked Padme.

He sighed, tapped impatient fingers against the terminal. He could see _beating around the bush_ would be unwise right now. Fine. “Can we talk about this?”

Anakin feigned deep shock. “Oh, now you want to practice utmost transparency Obi-wan? Little late, isn’t it?” Obi-wan didn’t remember him being this _temperamental_ when he was a Padawan.

“It’s never too late.”

Anakin barked a bitter laugh, eyes scanning the holomap. “Don’t give me the life lecture right now, Obi-wan. I’m not in the mood.”

“Anakin…”

A burst of rage whiplashed him in the Force, shoving him backward. “ _Not_ in the mood.”

“Would you at least just… Look at me?!” _Please._

“I can’t,” Anakin harrumphed, a bit of red tinting his cheeks. “Your _face_ is weird,” it took Obi-wan a moment to understand what he was saying. When he finally did, he could not help the chuckles that bubbled up his throat, finally spilling out into the air. Anakin stiffened even more, if possible, but the Force burbled with his own mortified amusement.

“You’ve seen me beardless before,” Obi-wan pointed out when his laughter had died down. He had not genuinely laughed in so long his lungs stung a bit from the unfamiliar movement.

Anakin shrugged. “Not since I was twelve, at least. Besides, your eyebrows and hair are gone too. You look like a pale bean with eyes and a mouth. It’s creeping me out.”

“Says the man who fights _every_ manner of uncivilized vermin on a daily basis…”

“Hasn’t Ahsoka already gone over this with you? I know she’s the one who broke you out,” Obi-wan snickered.

“She agreed it was weird.”

“I rest my case.”

“But it _is_ me, Anakin. You know that,” Anakin’s expression morphed into neutrality, buried emotions sitting at the corners of his mouth and in his eyes like sparks of lightning. He chuckled darkly, no ounce of actual joy in his demeanor.

“You know,” he said, softly. “A week ago, I would have done anything- _anything_ at all- to hear you say that. To have you standing next to me, but now…” he shook his head. “Now I wish you’d have stayed dead.” Obi-wan’s blood froze. His Force shields slammed into place, obscuring deep rivers of shock and hurt.

He schooled his face into passiveness, forced the tremble from his voice. “You don’t mean that,” he replied, half believing his own words. Hadn’t he wished the same, lying there listening to his friends mourn him? Wouldn’t that have been _better?_

He scoured the emotion from the pitfalls of darkness, rescuing himself by force of will. He was _not_ dying until Anakin kriffing found a way to _live_ with his death _healthily_ and like _a Jedi_ , damn it!

“And I suppose you came here to tell me that you didn’t mean to hurt me? To _use_ me? Not all of us are such seasoned planners, Obi-wan. Some of us are spontaneous. Some of us actually _feel_ things,” Obi-wan narrowed his eyes.

“Usually the same ones who never learned to control those things,” he snapped, and for Force sakes, had there ever been another being in the galaxy who could rile him so much? Not even _Satine_ pushed his buttons like this.

Now Anakin faced him. The temperature of the room notched a few degrees, forcibly heated by the sizzling Force between them. “Oh, is that why you did it? To teach me a lesson about self-control? Detachment, maybe? Fine. Make this into my failure. Who am I, to question the perfect Jedi?”

 _Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath. There is no emotion, there is peace, there is no emotion…_ “I am not here to… Blast it, Anakin, would you just listen?”

“Like you listened?!” Anakin shouted back, shoving his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. “I called out to you in the Force for days! What happened? You just tuned me out? I _pleaded_ with you when I thought you were dead! I _wept_ over you! And you just sat there and _let_ me?!”

_No. No, that isn’t how it happened._

Not in his heart anyway. In reality, Anakin wasn’t wrong. The monstrousness of his own betrayal made Obi-wan feel nauseous, but he bit back that emotion too, exhaling slowly, desperately scrambling for some semblance of an honest reply.

“I’m not saying what I did was fair,” he finally whispered. “I know it wasn’t. If there had been another way, I would have done it!” A bit of desperation leaked into his voice. “Anakin, you _know_ I would never hurt you unless it was necessary!”

A vein in the other man’s forehead jumped. “There _was_ another way. You could have told me!”

Sarcasm made him feel better. “Because your acting skills are _stellar_ and the fate of the Republic wasn’t in the balance, yes. Brilliant strategy.”

Throwing his own words back at him made Anakin feel better. “Whatever happened to _honor,_ Obi-wan?”

Obi-wan was glad they were both feeling better. “The same thing that happened to compassion, apparently! It died at the first sign of trouble.”

“Good. You were never a strong proponent of compassion anyway. You prefer the hypocrites approach, causing harm only when _you_ deem it right and being kind only when it’s part of your _plan_.” Now that was just excessive.

“Damn it, Anakin!” A forced exhalation of breath. Obi-wan reached up, gently kneaded the growing headache throbbing behind his temples. “Had Qui-gon pulled a stunt like this, I’m sure I would not have been thrilled about it either,” he opened his eyes, implored the Force for just a moment, a second where the boy wasn’t too angry to _hear_ him. “But I would have _understood_ that despite everything else we may be- we are _Jedi_ first. We serve the greater good, and sometimes that means doing terrible things in service to that good. Damning the consequences, and doing the hard work...”

“Is that what you told yourself to compensate for lack of moral ground?”

“It’s the truth.”

Anakin made a disgusted sound. “You don’t know what _truth is,_ Obi-wan. You only know what the Code tells you!” Obi-wan stared at his friend for a long moment, unsure if the man before him was truly Anakin Skywalker, or someone else. Or if maybe he was meeting Anakin Skywalker for the first time.

The idea scared him.

“What happened to you, Anakin?” Obi-wan asked, suddenly exhausted, his entire body abuzz with frustration and failure. “Once, you were generous.”

Anakin’s smile turned sickening. “Why,” he cocked his head innocently. “I became your apprentice, _master,”_ that final blow effectively speared him through the heart. Obi-wan stood there, astonished to his core, vibrating with the urgency of pain. Then, as quickly as an Ataru defensive pivot, he slammed his shields firmly into place, and burnished his Force signature clean of… Everything. Anything.

Obi-wan spun on his heel and started toward the exit. Just as the durasteel doors opened, however, he stopped. “I have failed you Anakin,” he breathed, throat closing with remorse. “I only hope one day you can forgive me for it.”

There was nothing else to say, so he left.


	2. Chapter Two

Anakin did not see his friend for nearly six months after that.

It was the longest they had ever gone without communicating in some way. Before, even if the war kept them apart, they had usually found a way to comm each other, switching successful battle tactics, asking for intel, or just sharing stories until the war beckoned them back or fatigue compelled them to fall silent.

This time, though, the silence between them was final. Even the bond had gone dark, swinging precariously between them like tattered ends of a broken bridge. At some level, Anakin knew if he reached out Obi-wan would not deny him. Equally, he was sure that if Obi-wan reached out, he would be incapable of denying him. Nevertheless, neither did.

It was… Strange. Novel. A little exciting and terrifying all at once. He hadn’t felt isolated from Obi-wan since he was nine years old. The Rako Hardeen incident was perhaps the closest he had ever gotten to this feeling of emptiness, but in his grief he hadn't been able to enjoy it. 

Anakin Skywalker was definitively, unequivocally, undeniably independent. Free. Untethered. For the first time, he understood detachment. The neutrality it offered, the mind-numbing peace of not caring or being cared for.

Granted, he still loved Padme more than his own life, Ahsoka more than every star in the galaxy and visited the Chancellor with unwavering dedication. However, none of those attachments kept him balancing between an act of Jedi serenity and painful secrets. He didn’t have to hide his anger or watch his cheek with those people.

He didn’t have to be _self-controlled._

Yet like all things, the difference between what one _has to_ be and what one _is_ became… Clouded. _I should start making a list of all the reasons I hate Dooku,_ Anakin thought peevishly as his arms began to burn, the muscles cording his bones twinging with exertion. Above him, four stories of building wavered preciously in the loose Force grip he had on it. The people below screamed as chunks of debris collapsed from above.

“Don’t stop! Go! GO!” The clones rushing past and around him yelled, shoving civilians under the building he was holding up. Beyond that, the gunships hovered over the ground, waiting for the coming refugees.  Ahsoka was at his back, blocking him from blaster fire from oncoming droids.

“I think you didn’t think this plan through all the way, master!” She called, as one of her hands shot out to catch a large hunk of building that had crumpled from the while.  She was strong in the Force. It stopped, suspended above the heads of a family running past. 

“Oh yeah?” Anakin ground out between clenched teeth, as one bolt sizzled past his thigh. He straightened his spine, struggling to hold the building up. Just a few hundred more people and he could drop it. Sweat poured down his temple, itched behind his ears and tickled his collarbone.

Laisres was a planet circling the border between mid and outer rim, a large supplier of the dura-steel the Republic used to build its cruisers. Dooku had conquered the capital city a week earlier. They had been fighting on Laisres- without reprieve or reinforcements- for two days. Ahsoka, too, was tiring, her sabers rotating slower, her body tight with tension. “What’s your… _Ugh_ … Bright idea, t-then?”

“Our directive was not to try and take back the city!” Yeah, well, Anakin had a hard time following the Council’s directives nowadays. Besides, Dooku had been using this city’s occupants as slaves, and who knew how long it would be until they could get more Republic troops to take it back? Anakin hated reconnaissance missions. He would rather just fight and get it done with.

Though, Ahsoka may have had a point about the plan part.

“We’re doing great,” his legs trembled beneath him. Anakin wobbled dangerously.

“Sir! That building is gonna crumple or fall! Come on!” Rex shouted from nearby, keeping a sharp eye on the edges of the building that had come apart from its whole. The building had toppled over a moment earlier, its foundation disintegrated by a well-placed hit from a Separatist plasma cannon. Anakin had impulsively reached out to the Force, desperately, to allow the citizens to flee beneath the hulking weight.

“How… Many?” Anakin gasped. Ahsoka’s Montrals were digging into the back of his head, so close was she pressed. The Droids were _right on top of them_ , but Anakin couldn’t leave until they had saved everyone. He just couldn’t…

“Master, we don’t have time! You have to drop it…” Anakin grit his teeth. His entire body was trembling, the strain was too much. Ahsoka’s sabers hissed behind him, the heat searing the tips of his hair, passing by his ear. He could hear Ahsoka’s ragged breathing. He felt as if he might explode any minute now from the universal power flowing through him.

“Ahsoka!” He snapped, angrily. He could do this. He could do _anything,_ even if some people didn’t trust him. He would show them. He would show _everyone…_

“General Skywalker!” Rex screamed. “We have to leave now! Get out of there, sir!”

“Master, come on!” Ahsoka yelled. Her alarm was a palpable thing in the Force, a snake wrapping around his windpipe, whispering in his ear.

_She doesn’t trust you either. She doesn’t think you can do this…_

Ahsoka’s tiredness was a deficit. A blaster bolt flew past her defenses, struck him in the calf. Anakin cried out as his left leg buckled, sending him to one knee. The building dropped a foot before he caught it again, growling as agony raced down his spine and pooled in his leg. “AHSOKA!” He roared.

Everyone was screaming. Clones were racing past, Rex was calling out, Ahsoka’s panic was so damned _out of control_ and the citizens wouldn’t stop _screaming_. Like his mom, in his dreams all that time ago and damn it! The Universe was clambering for more _, more_ , and he couldn’t… He didn’t know… The frustration made him impatient.  “Are they CLEAR?!” Blast it. Blast it. Blast it.

A blaster bolt caught Ahsoka in her right wrist. She yelped, one saber dropped listlessly to the ground but she did not leave his side. She only cradled a burnt wrist to her chest, still guarding his back with her other saber. Loyal, alarmed, filled with Light.

“Yes! Yes, alright?! Anakin, please!” That was all he needed.

“Get ready,” they would have to run for it. Suddenly, he heard Ahsoka gasp, a lightning bolt of utter horror freezing his heart. It was not his. Then, faster than he would thought possible, he was being shoved away by a Force push so strong it almost knocked him out. Anakin flew from beneath the building, cries stuck in his throat.

He hit the ground rolling, as usual, and his back abruptly slammed against a piece of crumpled architecture. Blue blaster bolts filled the air above his head, red ones following. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the muffled silence in his head. He couldn’t hear anything, but he did happen to see, like the slow falling of a feather in the air, the building began to plunge down. Ahsoka was running, her face etched with uncharacteristic dread.

That was when the plasma blast made the ground beneath her burst and the building went toppling, and Anakin lost sight of both the droid army and his apprentice beneath its massive bulk.

His heart stopped. “Snips, NO!” He screamed as the building sent a shockwave of hot air, interspersed with random rubble and droid parts. Anakin curled into a ball, using the Force to shield himself from the blast. Behind him, clones and civilians rapidly soared over his head, bowled over by the blast radius.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin gasped, when it had ended. The battle zone was eerily quiet, or was that because he couldn’t hear anything? Anakin swiveled to take in the warzone. He was surrounded by chunks of building, sitting like ruined art around him. Blood splattered the ground, pieces of shrapnel speared from prone bodies. Smoke hung on the clothes of wounded men, women, children. The Force rang with emptiness. There were casualties. Many.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Ahsoka. She had looked so scared. She was never scared. Not his Snips. She was the most fearless person he knew. “Ahsoka,” Anakin mumbled again, trying to stagger upright, but a searing pain in his lower leg forced him to collapse, groaning.

Anakin rammed his prosthetic against the stone beside him, fists clenched so tightly he may have broken a mechanical finger. “Blast it!” He cried, as furious panic curled in his chest. He was so stupid. So incredibly stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ How could this have happened? How could he have let it?

“C’mon,” he growled, as he tried to pull himself up again, but stabbing pain erupted behind his temple. A trickle of blood meandered from his scalp. Anakin blinked, rapidly, as his vision blurred. Concussion. Possible broken leg. This was bad.

“Ahsoka,” he tried to reach out with the Force but pain made his connection sloppy. From far away, he heard a clone shouting his name. He glanced up at the murky gray sky entreatingly.

He could see the shadow of a cruiser hovering in orbit, probably fighting off reinforcements Dooku had sent to subdue him when he wasn’t even supposed to _be here_. Anakin wanted to scream.

 _Please,_ he begged his mother, Qui-gon, the Force itself. _Don’t punish her for my mistake. Please don’t let her die. Please don’t…_

“Roger, roger,” really? As if his day hadn’t been terrible already. Now the droids were beginning to file over the calamity, prepared to finish their work. Anakin limply laid on his side, scrabbling for his saber. The surviving clones would be climbing over the other side, trying to get to their general. They would be too late.

Suddenly, a compact body landed in front of him, expertly blocking the first blaster bolt. It ricocheted backwards, catching the droid in the chest. Anakin looked up, astounded.

“Need a hand, old friend?” Obi-wan Kenobi asked, standing over him protectively. Anakin had never been gladder to see anyone, _ever_ , in his life.

“Master,” he breathed, for a moment forgetting all that was between them. He had to get to Snips. Obi-wan must have sensed his urgency.

“Where’s Ahsoka?” He demanded, as several fighters sailed overhead, their whirring engines like music. It seemed that the 212th was here. Anakin saw several small ovals drop from the ship bellies, plummeting towards droid forces. The ground shook. Bombs.

 Anakin pointed a shaking finger at the building. “Ugh… She pushed me out of the way… She’s still… Under,” he breathed weakly. Obi-wan’s Force signature spiked with alarm.

“Very well. Cody, come in. I need a medical evac right now…” It took Anakin a moment to understand the evac was for him.

“No!” He cried. “I’m-” his voice cracked with agony. Obi-wan knelt beside him, lightly placed his fingers against Anakin’s temple, checking the cut along his brow. “Going back out there. I have to find her…”

“Anakin,” Obi-wan chided softly as clone forces began to appear, running over to the wounded, returning fire. “You’re too badly injured…” No. Anakin swatted his hands away, grabbed Obi-wan’s arm in a grip tight enough to bruise.

“It’s my fault she’s under there! We don’t have time to argue. Just _help_ me…”

Obi-wan placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “If I help you, it’s very likely you will _die_ from your wounds! Anakin, trust me, I will not stop until I get to her, but you need to get out of here, now!”

“ _Trust_ you?” Anakin scoffed, bitterly. “Are you serious? Like you trusted me?”

Obi-wan went silent for a minute, and their friendship wavered beneath the strain of secrets kept, and duties fulfilled. Then, Obi-wan reached forward. As if suspecting his touch would invoke a violent response, the Jedi Master tenderly pressed a palm to Anakin’s neck, cradling his head.  “You can be a better man than I, Anakin,” he whispered. “I know you can.”

_“I’m better than this! I **know** I’m better than this!” _

Anakin pressed his eyes closed as the memory sent a wave of nausea washing over him.  He had killed all of them, even _the children._ He did not have the right to carry grudges about trust. He reached out, grabbed Obi-wan’s shoulder for balance as he wavered. “Promise me,” he demanded, after a moment. Obi-wan eyes were dead serious as he squeezed the back of Anakin’s neck.

“I promise,” he breathed as Cody appeared over his shoulder, alongside four other clones and a hovering gurney. Anakin gazed at them somberly.

“Commander.” Cody, who had never gone more than two months without seeing or hearing from Anakin’s battalion in some form, only blinked professionally at him. He reached down, with surprisingly kind hands, to grab Anakin beneath his arms. Oval and Blazer copied his movements, gently picking Anakin up and setting him on the stretcher.

“General Skywalker,” Obi-wan had already vanished, and Anakin’s head was pounding. He laid back, finally releasing his desire for control, for trust, for strength. Finally letting his exhaustion take precedence over _need_ , as difficult as that was. He had done enough damage for one day.

No wonder no one trusted him.

Blazer situated a gas mask over his nose and mouth, and a second later Anakin felt clean oxygen cycled into him as the clones began leading his stretcher through the carnage toward the gunships. They were sedating him. Anakin waved a hand in Cody’s general direction. “W-when Obi-wan finds Ahsoka…?”

“I’ll wake you immediately, General Skywalker. We know the drill, sir,” Cody assuaged him, as they trotted past the smoking remains of a city he had destroyed. Rex ran up from somewhere beyond his peripheral vision. He spoke with Cody briefly, patted Anakin’s shoulder reassuringly. He said something, but the sedative was already working, so Anakin didn’t hear him. He discerned the basic message though. Rex would look for Ahsoka too.

Slightly mollified, Anakin allowed darkness to take him.


	3. Chapter Three

Obi-wan resisted the urge to pace.

As a Padawan, he had watched Qui-gon occasionally trace his own steps, his head ducked as his mind raced in turn with his feet. His brows crinkled with deep thought and the Force a thrashing ocean of uncertainty around him. Obi-wan had always tried to stay still, to be the calm in the storm.

He had rarely succeeded, but now that he was older, he looked back at those times with some pride. He had the feeling Qui-gon had appreciated his paltry efforts. So, Obi-wan stood outside of the med-bay (how had it come to this? Banned by _his own_ men out of _his own_ med-bay?) waiting for word of either Ahsoka or Anakin.

Gash was checking Ahsoka over in the room to his right until they could get to the nearest med center on Alderran. He had already commed Bail ahead of time to let him know they were coming. Anakin wasn’t the only one with… _Contacts_ in the Senate. Surg was in the room to his left, checking on Anakin. Obi-wan leaned on the wall between the two rooms, exhaling deeply to release any negative emotions.

And there were plenty to release. Guilt. Concern. Frustration. He should have known that Anakin would do something rash when he was left on his own. As Obi-wan had told Yoda years ago- and privately repeated it to himself since then- the boy was still _unbalanced._

 Continuously tipping into extremes at a moment’s notice, especially when he believed he had been wronged in any way. _I should have been there,_ Obi-wan cursed himself. _I should have watched out for him. I should have trained him better, as Qui-gon would have wanted._ _I should have been **better** …_

“General?” Obi-wan swiveled to his right. Gash had a rag between his hands, he scrubbed them clean of purple liquid calmly. Togruta blood. Obi-wan’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gash, how is she?” He asked quickly.

“The commander is… Stable, for now, general. Her injuries are extensive; broken leg, third degree burn on her right wrist, mild concussion. Suffice to say, she should stay off her feet for awhile, but I think she’ll be alright when we reach Alderran,” some of the tension in Obi-wan’s shoulders lessened. He nodded gratefully. At least one of his Padawan’s was out of harm’s reach. Blast it. When had he become reluctant babysitter of _two_ children?

And when had he begun thinking of them as his children?

“Thank you, Gash. Will you continue watching her for me? Keep me updated on her condition,” He asked. Gash nodded, one side of his mouth quirking into a knowing smile. He had worked with Obi-wan since the war’s beginning. By this time, he knew what to expect.

“Of course, sir,” Obi-wan nodded his thanks once again, turning as the door behind him slid open. Surg stepped out, gave a slight nod to his brother before facing Obi-wan.

“Good news, sir,” he reported cheerily, before Obi-wan could even open his mouth. “The general is fine. I have him on an IV for malnutrition and exhaustion, but he escaped with only a few bruises and flesh wounds. He should be waking up in a minute,” was he that predictable? Obi-wan allowed himself to smile.

“I should just let you men lead the war effort. Things might actually get _done,”_ he complimented, sincerely. He often thought that the Jedi had no business being Generals. Not his generation, at least. They had been raised to be keepers of the peace, diplomats and occasional fighters. The dusky realm of war demanded different sacrifices, everlasting scars… Gash and Surg shook their heads.

“You’d miss all the fun, sir,” Surg reminded him jovially.

Obi-wan stroked his beard. “Hmm, probably true. If you gentleman will excuse me,” Surg laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder, leading him back into Ahsoka’s room. Obi-wan trusted they would keep a close eye on her. He stepped into Anakin’s smaller quarters quietly, noting the dim lamplight set by the other Knight’s bed.

It cast dim orange shadows across the room, only large enough for a small bed and chair. Obi-wan pulled the chair by his friend’s side, trying to ignore the room’s smallness. Even after all these years, claustrophobia still clawed at the edge of his awareness, quickening his heart if nothing else.

His controlled apprehension roused Anakin from burgeoning consciousness into violent wakefulness. “Ahsoka!” The Jedi Knight gasped, eyes snapping open. The Force snapped with sudden terror streaked with protective panic.

“Anakin,” Obi-wan sighed, exasperated. The blasted man would tear his IV. He reached over, gently nudged Anakin with waves of calm. Anakin snapped his head around to stare, eyes wide.

“Master?” he breathed, relatively quieter. “Ahsoka. Did you find…?”

“Yes,” Obi-wan replied. “She’s in the room next to yours. Can’t you sense her?” He asked. Anakin paused, brow furrowing as he tentatively reached out into the Force. As Usual, Anakin simply _touching_ the Force made Obi-wan’s breath hitch. He had never doubted Anakin’s skill, and his power was… Unparalleled. He was honored to have been this man’s teacher, even if Qui-gon would have made a better…

“Yeah,” Anakin said at last, relaxing minutely. “I can sense her. She’s sleeping,” he narrowed his eyes at Obi-wan, semi-accusingly. “What are her injuries?” He demanded. Obi-wan leaned back.

“Many, but she’s stable for now. We’re on our way to Alderran. There will be Temple healers waiting for us when we arrive. Gash said she’ll be fine until then,” Anakin nodded, exhaling slowly.

“How do you feel?” Obi-wan asked, seeing him wince. Anakin gave a mild half-shrug, flexing the fingers of both hands instinctively. He had begun doing that after Geonosis. Obi-wan watched gravely.

“Well, I’m not missing anymore limbs, so, not the worst,” Anakin looked down, noticed the IV drip poking out of a vein in his left elbow. “What’s this boonda Hutt kark?” He asked, wrinkling his nose distastefully.

“ _That,”_ Obi-wan informed him, feeling his old worry return. “Is your penance for not taking proper care of yourself, _Master_ Skywalker,” Anakin blinked owlishly at him for a moment. The Force shimmered with graveness. Obi-wan read the unspoken question easily, wished he did not have to be the messenger.

 “There were one-hundred and seventy-four casualties,” he reported softly. “Thirty-two clones, the rest civilians. In the end, we were forced to retreat, and Separatist control over the planet has spread. We may…Have to abandon them.” Anakin’s eyes flashed. He sighed heavily and looked away, liked a child trying to hide a tantrum they knew they would be punished for.

“Say it,” he growled. Obi-wan blinked, uncomprehending. “Go ahead. Tell me I was reckless and irresponsible and undisciplined. Tell me what I tried to do was impossible and stupid and that this is all my fault!” Anakin’s voice cracked on the last word.

Obi-wan stared at him, aghast. “Blame is not the Jedi Way,” he reminded Anakin. His old apprentice chuckled darkly.

“We both know it’s the truth,” he replied, snapping back to stare Obi-wan in the face. His eyes blazed with a bitterness so cold it threatened to freeze both their hearts if not… Handled. Delicately.

This was the conundrum of working with Anakin. At one moment, he was ablaze with life, so hot that he threatened to scorch the entire universe in his tracks while he ricocheted from planet to planet. Yet, when he bounced too hard one too many times, he would grow colder than the deepest pits of space, his spirit tamped down into self-flagellation.

He was entirely too much like his master, really.

“I was the one who knew first, you know,” he blurted, nonsensically, because he was supposed to be intelligent and articulate. Anakin stared at him as if he suspected it was Obi-wan with the concussion.

“What?”

“When Master Qui-gon found you. He sent me the results of your Midi-chlorian test for further analysis. I was the first one to run the numbers, and when I did, I laughed. I thought he had stumbled across another blasted rock that acted like a Force conduit. I didn’t believe him when he told me you were a person. I thought it was impossible,” Obi-wan propped his head up by a hand, smiling wonderingly. Force, he remembered that day, that time. When the universe had still been able to enchant him, as jaded and arrogant a vetch as he had been.

“Your very _existence_ is impossible, Anakin,” Obi-wan continued, when Anakin’s expression grew more perplexed. “I do not blame you for thinking you may accomplish the impossible as well. You have, many times. This was… Not one of those times, but that does not make it your fault,” Anakin’s astonishment rang in the silence between them.

“I think… That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Anakin marveled.

 _Really?_ Obi-wan gave a half shrug. “Well, in that case, it will very likely be the last nice thing I will _ever_ say to you,” to his surprise, Anakin nodded.

“Good. Kinda creeped me out,” Obi-wan threw his hands up dramatically.

“I can never please you,” Anakin chuckled for a minute before pain forced him to forgo it. Obi-wan still cherished the experience. It felt like… Centuries since he had last seen Anakin genuinely smile, much less heard him laugh.

“How did you know where I was?” Obi-wan’s brow crinkled worriedly. Was Anakin’s concussion worse than Sarg originally reported?

“I’m on the council that assigned you to go there,” he reminded him, confusedly. Anakin scowled irritably.

“ _No_ … You’re such a sarcastic barve… How did you know that Ahsoka and I were in trouble? We weren’t even supposed to engage the enemy here,” Ah. Obi-wan snorted. Did Anakin truly believe that with his recent streak of overly conspicuous defiance, the Council actually believed he would do as he was told?

Instead, he asked: “Don’t you know when Ahsoka needs you?”

Anakin opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but closed it quickly when Obi-wan gave him a signature _you can’t fool me_ look. The gaze had worked less when Anakin was a child unused to his nonverbal communication, but nearly fifteen years of near constant companionship did have some perks.

“That insight never goes away, Anakin,” he finished.

“Not your Padawan anymore,” Anakin growled, crossing his arms huffily. He sank a bit further into the pillows, eyes momentarily flicking away. “Anyway…Thank you. You saved both our lives,” Obi-wan waved away the gratitude.

“I thought we long passed the point of having to thank each other for rescues,” after all, Anakin would have done the same for him, no matter the circumstances between them. Obi-wan wouldn’t be a proper friend- or Jedi- if he did not do the same.

“Yeah,” Anakin agreed quietly. “Yeah we did. Probably sometime after the eightieth time I saved your skin,” he nodded sagely, as if this had to be the reason. Obi-wan cocked an indignant brow.

“Now _hold on…!”_

Anakin was magnanimous when gloating. “No, its fine, master. It’s fine. It was my pleasure, all eighty times...”

“If you’re in the eighties, then I am undoubtedly in the three thousandths,” Anakin barked another laugh. Obi-wan grinned.

“You’re delusional, old man! I’m in the lead!”

“It does no good to lie to yourself, my friend,” it was the wrong word to use. Anakin’s eyes flashed.

“What about Jabiim?!” He snapped. The memory of that place sent a shock wave of electricity through Obi-wan’s entire body. He stiffened. The Dark Side cloyed at the edge of his mind, softly cooing the obscenities of the past, of agony so complete it had wrecked his Light. They never, _ever_ spoke of Jabiim, and the horrible aftermath of his rescue. Anakin’s eyes widened at his own insinuation.

 “Forget I just said that,” he said quickly. “Really. I- I didn’t mean it,” it seemed they were both doing and saying things they didn’t mean nowadays. How the mighty had fallen.

Obi-wan, for a minute, considered leaving. He should check on Ahsoka anyway, and with the smallness of the room and the reminder of… _That,_ his mental health could do with a bit of a break. But as Master Yoda would have said, the Force was not a nursemaid, and a Jedi never ran from the truth.

“It does count,” he admitted begrudgingly.

Anakin waded into the conversation cautiously. “Everyone thought you were dead then too.”

Obi-wan nodded, felt pangs of illusory pain on his wrists and ankles, where the shackles had been. He rubbed his left wrist unconsciously. “The fear was mutual.”

Anakin’s prosthetic twitched, as it always did when he was nervous.

“I never gave up on you, though,” Anakin told him, and it was more a promise than a reminder. “You should have known that with Hardeen. I would never just let your killer walk away,” that was the kriffing problem.

“Yes, well… You know I don’t often realize things like that,” one side of Anakin’s mouth quirked into a smile.

“You’re stupid that way,” he agreed. Obi-wan couldn’t find it within him to be affronted. He just shrugged, inhaling deeply.

“It’s not the worst insult I’ve been given,” he supposed, then commenced with the coming lecture. “You, likewise, should have realized it was impossible to hold up a building and defeat a droid army at the same time,” Anakin sighed.

“Yeah. I know. I’m usually better than that,” he ran a hand through his hair tensely. Obi-wan nodded.

“I know,” he ventured further into the unspoken. “Neither of us have been at our best lately,” he offered. Anakin gave him a firm _you aren’t fooling me_ look.

“Did you blow up a city too?”

“Not exactly. I was reacquainted with some people from… the past,” not his past. To claim something was a form of attachment, and _that_ would send him spiraling. The universe did not have time for him to spiral.

Obi-wan was not sure whether he had the strength for it either. Anakin’s blank look asked all he questions he needed. _Well, if he doesn’t hear it from me, he’ll hear it from the Council eventually._ Obi-wan exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. “Darth Maul is alive,” Anakin blinked.

“What the kriffing _hells?”_ Obi-wan was relieved that Anakin, at least, could voice his inner unease.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But… Didn’t you cut him in half like, twelve years ago?!”

“He failed to understand that it was a fatal wound.”

“Kriff, master! What did you do, go after him?”

“Did you think I would do anything else?”

“You should have comm’ed me. I would have come with you.”

“The last time someone I cared about was near Darth Maul, I watched him die on the floor. I’d rather you stay away,” the words slipped out before Obi-wan could think about the implications. Anakin smoothly ignored that first bit to scold him on another matter entirely. 

“What if he had captured you, Obi-wan?” An awkward silence. Then, “He _captured_ you!?”  
Obi-wan didn’t really know why Anakin was surprised. As he had pointed out earlier, Anakin was probably in the lead so far as rescues between them went. Obi-wan rarely went two weeks without being taken prisoner by some low-life or scallywag. “I’m fine.”

“That is _not_ fine! That is the _opposite_ of fine!” _Well, I can see he cares._ Obi-wan smiled patiently, reaching forward to squeeze Anakin’s arm reassuringly.

“Anakin, again, I’m _fine_.” Anakin remained unconvinced. His lips jutted in a surprisingly similar expression to a full-blown pout as his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“How did you escape?” Obi-wan considered lying, and immediately dismissed the notion with a small jolt of surprise. He had never considered lying to Anakin by default, before.

Then again, Anakin was very… Volatile, these days.

“Asajj saved me,” he admitted, quietly. The scar over Anakin’s eye was so thin it was hardly recognizable against his pale skin, but Obi-wan saw how it crinkled with ire at her name. “I don’t know why,” he hastened to add, predicating Anakin’s next inquiry. “She didn’t say. I don’t even know what she was doing there, or why she bothered to say hello. We didn’t speak much after we escaped together,” Anakin, as usual, missed the point completely.

“Oh, so you’ll invite _Ventress_ to play with Sith, but not me?”

Obi-wan’s patience slowly deteriorated. Once more, he turned to sarcasm to compensate for tearing his former apprentice’s head off. “Your jealousy is ill-founded. I didn’t particularly _like_ floating idly through cold space inside nothing more than a tiny trash compactor and condemned to Ventress’s presence. According to her many remarks, she didn’t find it an enjoyable experience either,” his wit didn’t scare Anakin (it never had, really) but it did seem to get his message across.

“You get really nasty when you’re in the cockpit of a ship for too long, master.” Especially when he was in the small cockpit of a ship with limited control. Obi-wan had thanked the Force, profusely, when they had finally been sucked into Naboo’s orbit. Asajj had stormed past him the second the ship hit the ground, and whether from tiredness or the tiniest hint of gratitude, Obi-wan had not attempted to pursue her. He had let her go, trusting that she no longer wanted to hurt anyone purposefully. Asajj had always been a pawn, and sitting in stoic, steaming silence with her had made him realize that she was one no longer.

Anakin, presumably, would not understand that. So, Obi-wan just smiled humorlessly. “I’m sure that’s what it was.”

Anakin sighed heavily, sensing what was not said.  “Obi-wan…” He groaned, pressing his palms to his eyes with exasperation. Obi-wan watched him with awe. How their roles had reversed. “Damn it, Obi-wan! You…” Anakin sighed. “You’re the closest thing I have to a father,” he disclosed softly, sounding drained of energy.  

It wasn’t the first time he had said as such. Obi-wan had given up trying to correct this forbidden affiliation. Maybe that was where he had failed, or succeeded. It was hard to tell with Anakin. “Yes.”

“What would I have done if something had happened to you?”

“Honored me,” Obi-wan replied, automatically. “By remembering your training. Continuing to do good and _be_ better. Remaining strong.”

“Were you strong after Qui-gon died?” The question was mostly a challenge, but genuine curiosity was in there too.

A bittersweet snort. “I didn’t have the option not to be. I had a Padawan to raise. Presumably, you will have more of a choice and like I said, you can be a better man than I, Anakin,” he believed that. He believed that Anakin Skywalker could- would- be a magnificent Jedi… and a great man. Hopefully he would learn how to balance the two, but if not, then Obi-wan would much rather he be the latter. Like Qui-gon had been.

Anakin was silent for a long span of minutes. He looked down, arms unfolding themselves loosely until they hung limply in his lap. “Had I… Had my actions resulted in Ahsoka’s death today… I don’t know what I would have done,” he admitted. “I would have been angry at myself, and you and the Separatists and Dooku and the council. I would have been devastated. But when I thought you were dead, I just…” He stopped, searching for words.

“Felt lost,” he finished, helplessly. Obi-wan’s heart panged.  “All the time. I literally didn’t know what to do, where to go, what to feel. It was like someone blindfolded me and chucked me out into space without navigation. All I had left to guide me was my determination to find your killer. I’m not even sure what I would have done next. I felt like I had lost… _Everything,_ and it was all part of your plan. Did you even think about that before you did it? Did it even matter?”

“Of course,” Obi-wan snapped, surprising himself at the strength of his need to convince Anakin of that, at least. He had barely had time to think of anything but Anakin since the boy had become his apprentice, as a Jedi, he had been given limited time to think about anything but everyone else.

“There was not _a second_ during the entire mission when I was not thinking of you, Anakin. Or Ahsoka or Satine, Garen, Bant, the countless other people I fooled,” Obi-wan sighed, lowered his voice. “One day, Padawan,” he murmured. “Whether because I am ten years older, we’re at war or we’re Jedi, you will lose me,” Anakin’s eyes snapped closed.

“Don’t say that to me.”

“I _must,_ Anakin! I must know I did everything I could to help you. I don’t want you to suffer after my death.”

“What? You think talking to me about it will make it so that I _don’t_ suffer?”

“I had hoped,” Obi-wan bit out. “Attachment is _forbidden_ , Anakin.”

“I’m not the one still upholding a psychic bond with my former Padawan, Obi-wan,” Anakin replied, scathingly. Obi-wan opened his mouth, closed it in shock. “Listen, if something ever happened to me, wouldn’t you mourn?”

The question stole the breath from him in a helpless whoosh. He was surrounded by death every day, but for some reason whenever he tried to imagine a universe without Anakin, his heart stuttered to a stop. It was incomprehensible. “I would…” He spluttered, his eloquence dashed to pieces.

Anakin leaned forward, his gaze intense. “ _Wouldn’t_ you?”

Obi-wan’s shoulders slouched. It was possible he had never been a very good Jedi either, because “yes,” he answered. “I would. For the rest of my life.”

“I rest my case,” for some reason, his former apprentice didn’t seem overly surprised at his inadequacy. “ _Nothing_ prepares you for something like this, not the Code, not the Force, not _anything._ So, let’s just… Keep our minds in the present moment, ok? Presently, we’re both safe and alive. That’s all we have,” Obi-wan gritted his teeth. Anakin’s suggestion skirted the line of blasphemy. Besides, that approach had never sat well with him. The curse of precognition haunted his every step, he wanted to be ready for every eventuality. He yearned for peace, now and forever.

It was, as Qui-gon once said, his greatest weakness.

He was grateful beyond words that he had somehow managed not to pass it along to Anakin, that his apprentice was more like Qui-gon. He released a slow breath, allowed the Force to settle over them. “I suppose I can live with that,” he breathed. Then, because he needed to say it; “Anakin, I never did apologize, but you must know that I am sorry that I lied to you. Truly. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” Anakin nodded.

“I wish I could say that I’m not still peeved, but I am,” Obi-wan nodded seriously.

“I don’t expect you not to be,” he agreed. Anakin gave a lopsided smile.

“I also wish I could say that I can’t forgive you, but you’ve forgiven me worse things. Still, if you _ever_ manipulate me like that again, Obi-wan, I _will_ walk away. Permanently this time,” maybe it was a sign of foreboding that such a declaration made Obi-wan’s heart clench. The hard flint in Anakin’s eyes perhaps should have alerted him as well, but all Obi-wan just exhaled a slow breath.

“I hear you.”

“Good,” Anakin shook his head ruefully. “You’ve grown on me, Obi-wan Kenobi,” he guessed.

“I know the feeling, Anakin Skywalker. Not with you, of course, but…”

Anakin chuckled, then winced when the action pulled at his IV. “You’re such a barve,” he accused.

“Generals,” they both looked up to see Surg standing in the doorway, watching them fondly. “The commander woke up. She’s still groggy, but she’s stable.”

Obi-wan stood. “Thank you Surg,” he said.

“We’re also about fifteen minutes from Alderran, sir. We’ve already hailed the surface; and been cleared for landing,” Anakin tugged at his sleeve.

“Roll Ahsoka in here for me master,” he requested. “When the healers start in, I want to be close by,” Obi-wan opened his mouth, prepared to remind Anakin that the Temple healers most certainly did not need their help. Besides, Ahsoka was nearly a grown woman. She probably would not take kindly to the idea of Anakin holding her hand during the proceedings. Nevertheless, he saw the vulnerability in Anakin’s eyes, and knew he had been trusted with this, too.

This time, he would not destroy that trust.

He sighed. “We’re on thin ice with the healers as it is,” he warned Anakin. “I’m not sure even my staunch negotiations will be enough to save us should you displease them,” Anakin just waved a dismissive hand, flashing the jauntiest grin he had. It was charming to some people. For Obi-wan, it tickled an answering grin from him.

“Good thing we’re a team then,” Anakin replied, flopping back unto his pillows. He crossed his ankles beneath the covers. “Between me, you and Snips, we should be able to charm them into complacency,” Surg snorted behind them, evidently, he had heard the rumors. Or he had been privy to the situations he and Anakin sponsored via the healers themselves. Someone had been talking, perhaps.

Obi-wan crossed his arms. He didn’t want to break this tenuous peace, eager to rebuild what they once had. Perhaps he could even make it stronger.  

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you Anakin?”

Anakin’s eyes widened innocently. “Everything I know, I learned from you master.”

“A truer statement was never uttered, Master Skywalker,” another voice interjected from the doorway. Obi-wan spun on a heel, and promptly groaned. Ahsoka, seated in a wheelchair at Bant’s feet, burst into laughter.

“Snips!” Anakin cried, smiling. Ahsoka, one leg casted and a bandage wrapped around her montrals, still managed to look like she was sassing someone.

“Hi masters,” she greeted hoarsely.

“You two are perhaps the greatest pains in the entire Order,” Bant continued, rolling Ahsoka into the room. She gave Obi-wan a stern glare over one shoulder. “Conspiring with the wolves, master Jedi?” She demanded. Obi-wan raised his hands pacifically.

“I would never betray you Bant,” he promised. He didn’t _want_ to die, after all, and there were few people who knew him as well as Bant did. She was a formidable opponent.

“It was all his fault, Bant,” Anakin whined as his Padawan was wheeled over to him. Obi-wan crossed his arms, glared. As soon as Anakin was cleared for active duty again, he was going to _get it_ during their sparring session. “He’s the one who wanted to break Ahsoka out. I tried to tell him no…”

“Save it, charlatan. The only one I trust out of this circle is Ahsoka, and just barely. Sit down, Kenobi. I know you’re hiding an injury too. Anakin; stay down. I’m double checking you. The clones don’t know your tricks. Anyone have any disagreements?” Obi-wan promptly dropped back into his seat. Ahsoka grumbled beneath her breath and Anakin heaved a groan.

“Did you two make up?” Ahsoka inquired softly when Bant turned her back, studying Anakin’s charts with pursed lips. Obi-wan and Anakin exchanged a glance. Obi-wan arched his brows, leaving the answer with the person he had wronged. The corners of his friend’s mouth quirked into a rueful half smile.

“We’re… Getting there. We’ll be fine, Snips. How do you feel?”

Ahsoka smiled. “Like I’m ready to get back out there and defeat evil, master,” she quipped.

“Lets perhaps rest first?” Obi-wan suggested, glancing at Bant to see if she had heard. She had. A wave of approval emanated from her in the Force.

“Ok,” Ahsoka agreed, sounding disappointed. She allowed Anakin’s Force signature to probe at hers, assessing for deeper injury. “But…. Then we can go defeat evil?” She asked.

Obi-wan chuckled. “Yes, Ahsoka. Always.”

“No doubt about it, Ahsoka,” Anakin continued, satisfied that his Padawan was not in immediate danger of dying. He grinned. “Defeating evil is the simplest thing on our to-do list. We’ve gotta stick together too. Which is why I suggest that we…”

“No, Anakin.”

“I was gonna say listen to Bant!”

Obi-wan laughed. Some things would never change, even as the universe crumpled around them. He was grateful for the chance to spend it alongside his closest friends, until the fight killed them, or they won. He had confidence it would be the latter.

Yes. Until then.

 


End file.
